Under a Bridge
by iluvcm
Summary: AU. Sam and Dean have run away from foster care and are living on the streets. They both have nightmares and have a tearful talk about their parents together. Hinted slash. One-shot but will turn multi-chapter if requested.


Suddenly I scream. "Daddy!" Something is happening inside Sammy's nursery but I don't know what. Then my daddy comes running round the corner with Sammy clutched to his chest. My daddy is crying. It's really hot and I start to sweat. Daddy shouts and I'm scared but I do what he says and take Sammy outside. I run down the hallway and almost drop my brother because he's heavy but I don't. I run down the stairs and to the front door. It's locked. I need my mommy to unlock it. She always has the key. I yell "mommy!" but she doesn't answer. Then I see the key so I put Sammy under one arm and unlock the door. Sammy's heavy and I nearly drop him again but I don't, again. Then I run outside. The porch is cold because I'm not wearing shoes, and the grass on the lawn is wet so the bottoms of my pyjama pants get wet too. I stop on the grass because I'm tired and I look up. The window is all orange with fire. It crackles. I say, "It's okay Sam," but Sam is quiet because he's scared. I'm scared too. I'm not sure it's okay after all. I want my daddy to come thundering down the stairs and swoop me and Sammy up in his arms but he doesn't. Then suddenly the windows explode with fire. It's really hot and the lawn starts to steam. I scream and run down the road to the house opposite to get help. I trip and fall because mommy brought my pyjamas too big. I'm falling. I'm still falling-

"Argghff" I shout as I jolt awake. I blink hard a couple of times and look over at Sam. He's asleep, curled up on a piece of cardboard on the floor under the bridge where we've been sleeping. I look at his peaceful face but he seems to be waking up. He opens one eye and says, "You okay?" His voice, newly deep, his hoarse from sleep.

"'M fine."

Sam raises an eyebrow and sits up, massaging his stiff neck. He clears his throat. "Wanna talk about it?"

"About what?" I snap, glaring at him. He looks back, knowing that I know exactly what he's talking about.

"Your nightmare," he says, in the same soft deep voice that I'm slowly getting used to.

"No." I say quickly, and I turn away, rubbing the stubble on my cheek. There's a long silence.

"Dean," he says in a very different voice. I turn back slowly to see the boy I love so much staring at his cardboard mattress, his eyes wet.

I'm confused. Why is he so upset? I only said no. Even if it was a little angry. I try to make my voice comforting. "Hey…" I place my hand on his surprisingly muscular shoulder. "'Sup?"

"It's, urgh, been a month."

"Since?" I hesitate, hating myself for not knowing.

"I ran away."

"Sa-am. They're foster parents, they'll have forgotten you. I promise they won't come looking for you."

"How do you know?" He says, fingering the dirty cardboard.

"I'll keep ya safe Sammy," I reassure him, squeezing his shoulder.

"Sam." He corrects me, sniffing and wiping his eyes. He's blushing, embarrassed that he was crying.

"Sam," I say, correcting myself. I rub his shoulder and smirk a little as our stomachs rumble at the same time. I feel awful that I forgot the date, so I decide to make it up to him by getting some breakfast. I get up and smooth down my worn jeans.

"Where you goin'?"

I grin. "To get some breakfast."

Sam sniffs and smiles a thank you. Breakfast is rare since we live on the streets. Sam ran away from foster care a month ago. He hadn't stayed there long. His foster homes never lasted as he was a 'difficult' kid. I got kicked out of the foster home I was staying at last year, when I was eighteen, but I couldn't get a job and the money I had soon ran out. I contacted Sam about six weeks ago and he managed to get away pretty soon after that. He found me and we tried to get an apartment but we had no money. So we stayed on the streets.

I run into an alley and scale the brick wall. I jump over the other side and land quietly. I'm just in time for the supply lorries that stock the stores early in the morning. I sneak up to the huge yellow vehicle and peer around the corner. Two men in overalls disappear into the shop to give some of the food to the store owner. From experience, I know there will be someone standing inside the truck, ready to hand more crates to the two men in overalls. I take a quick glance into the truck and then quickly whip around, pressing my back against the side of the truck. I'm in luck. The patisserie boxes are closest to me. I peek into the truck again. The man inside has his back turned to me so I flick my finger under the card tab and open a box of fifty glazed donuts. The man turns around but he doesn't see me, or the open box, as there are two large crates of apples in front of me. I poke my fingers through the holes of four donuts and lift them off the sticky paper, hoping not to make a sound. Then I turn around, stuffing one donut into my face and putting the other three in my jacket pocket. I run up to the brick wall again, half a glazed donut hanging out of my mouth, jump over the other side and jog back to Sam. I sigh when I see he's okay. He's still sitting on the cardboard under the bridge: where we stayed for the night. He turns around and snorts when he sees frosting and half a donut sticking out of my mouth. I reach into my sticky pockets and chuck him two of the donuts, one of which he catches with his mouth, the other lands on the floor. I laugh.

"Dude! That second one was hard to catch."

"Eat up Sammy."

"Sam."

"Sam." I correct. "Sorry."

We eat quickly and in silence. Sam thanks me when he's done. His voice wavers and I smirk, glad my voice-breaking days are over. Sam groans.

"It'll be over soon Sam," I say jokily, though I hope I'm reassuring him.

He slaps my hand away when I try to put it comfortingly on his shoulder.

"Dean stop treating me like a kid."

"Dude you_ are_ a kid, you're fourteen. And I'm sorry okay, I meant it as a joke."

"It's not just that! It's they way you sigh with relief after you come back from getting food or whenever you leave me alone. I don't like it how you sneak glances at me to check I'm okay. I'm fine!"

"Just looking after you," I try to explain, holding my sticky hands up in surrender.

"I don't need looking after! I'm not a kid!" He says raising his voice and shifting away from my slightly. There's a silence, then he says softly, with a sigh, "Sorry. Lot on my mind."

"Me too," I reply.

"Wanna talk?"

"No man, I'm fine!" I snap angrily.

"Dean, you were screaming in your sleep. It's lucky we're under a bridge and not in some doorway or people would've heard."

"I-I was?"

Sam nods. "I know I'm still a kid in your mind but you know as well as I do how fast you have to grow up when you're in care. You can talk to me, because I mean, look around-" Sam waves his arms and I see his muscles ripple, "-who else do you have?"

I'm silent, realising it's true. Then Sam speaks more quietly. "And, urgh, besides… if you talk to me, I'm more comfortable talking to you."

"More comfortable?"

"Yeah Dean. I, umm, know you're my brother and all but we've only known each other a month, and it's been a pretty hectic month of running away from the police and foster parents and angry shop keepers. We haven't really got to know each other."

I clear my throat, memories flooding back. "Sammy, that's not true for me though. I remember you when you were a baby. I was six when they separated us. I remember you, it's just you were two… I mean, no-one remembers shit from when they were two." I smile inwardly when he doesn't correct his name to Sam.

Sam's eyes light up. "You - you remember me as a baby?"

I swallow noisily, my throat sticking with the donut frosting. "Yeah." I can't find anything else to say, so I don't say anything.

"Did you dream about mom and dad?" Sam's voice, now soft, caring and deep again, breaks the silence.

I say "Yeah," in the same tone of voice.

He hesitates before he asks the next question.

"Did they…die? In your dream?"

I nod, looking away so he won't see my eyes sparkling with tears.

"They did in mine too." From the corner of my eye, I can see that Sam's trying not to cry. "How did they die? In real life? No-one ever told me before."

"There was a freak electrical fire," I mumble, my voice hoarse. "I carried you out of the house but… mom and dad didn't make it."

"You carried me out of the house?" Sam echoes. I nod, a slight smile on my face.

"How did they…you know… in your dream?"

"I don't know. I just stood there and they were dead."

I make an indistinguishable noise in my throat. "'M sorry… that you have nightmares. I didn't know."

"I'm sorry about yours too," he replies, licking a stray bit of sugar from his lips. "I wish I could've known them."

"You're growin' up too fast Sammy. You shouldn't have to say that."

Sam smiles a sad smile.

"What were they like?"

"They were the best parents and they loved us so much," I say sincerely, a single tear running down my face. Sam notices and sniffs a little in surprise. He swallows audibly.

"Do you know where they're buried?" He looks up at me, hoping I've got the answer. I shake my head. My heart sinks as his face falls. I rub his shoulder lovingly, and he rests his cheek on my hand. I can feel his hot tears pooling onto my knuckles. I shift closer to him on his cardboard and rest my head in one hand. Sam rests his head in his right hand and we both laugh tearfully. Then suddenly, he pulls me into a sweaty hug. Hesitantly, I hug back and breathe out slowly, realising that I couldn't ask for a better brother.


End file.
